


apocalyptic

by strong



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Autumn, Famous Harry, Fluff, Halloween, Haunted Houses, M/M, louis is a fake devil, zayns also a fake vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:23:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strong/pseuds/strong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is an accidental theif who works at a haunted house and harry just wants to write a song about him</p>
            </blockquote>





	apocalyptic

**Author's Note:**

> happy halloween! sorry there's only three days left now :-(
> 
> i have no one to really thank here for once so thanks to louis and harry i guess for existing. without you two i literally wouldn't be here right now.
> 
> if you're curious, [this](http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/38/b9/0b/38b90b8d3dd59e2212884a86ad7efbe5.jpg) is basically what louis looks like, save for a few details.

Halloween is absolutely, two hundred percent Louis’ favorite time of the year. Behind Christmas of course because that doubles as his birthday so he gets spectacularly drunk off of cheap wine and flooded with gifts and money alike. But still, all things considered, Halloween is at least a very close second.

Fall overall isn’t as exciting to him because he much prefers flaunting off his biceps in muscle tees and prancing around in jean shorts that display his football-toned legs to having to throw on numerous layers of ridiculously itchy, thick clothing every day to fight against the chill. If he lived in some tropical country nearer to the equator maybe the season would be okay, but London just doesn’t cut him slack with the deadly cold temperatures.

The heater in his dingy flat is working with all its might to provide warm air, humming noisily from somewhere above Louis’ head. It’s barely audible over the loud music he has blasting from the speakers in his bedroom. They’re thumping to the beat of some song about heartache and alcohol at the moment which is a vague description of basically every song he has saved to his phone.

“Ey, Lou, you almost ready?” Zayn asks, suddenly shoving open the bathroom door and banging it right into Louis’ elbow causing him to smudge red lipstick across his cheek.

“Oh fuck, bro, now you’re made me mess up my makeup,” Louis whines exasperatedly. “This is a precise art, you can’t just barge into my work area without warning!” In the mirror he glares at Zayn who stares at him blankly in return. 

See, Zayn is Louis’ best friend and flatmate. The basis of their friendship is the fact that Zayn doesn’t put up with any of Louis’ shit- or, well, he _does_ put up with it, better than anyone else ever could - and Louis puts up with Zayn's.

Zayn's learned to ignore Louis when he complains about petty things, to not disrupt him when his bedroom door is shut even when worrying sounds travel from underneath the wood, and to never eat the last serving of Corn Flakes in the box. Louis in return doesn't wake Zayn up before ten, doesn't take any of his weed without asking first, and never touches Zayn's drawings. They’ve got a nice, equilibrium with silent rules set up and it makes for an easy shared monarchy in their household.

That being said, Zayn is now staring at Louis in the mirror with a look that would make the average being shrivel up and apologize for actions that haven’t even been performed yet. Louis has the ability to just ignore it, giving the dark-eyed boy a proper shove to the shoulder.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes or I’m leaving without you,” Zayn warns him. 

“Yeah, yeah, just go back in your coffin and wake up when you’re more patient.” Louis waves him off and leans back into the mirror to wipe off the misplaced lipstick and to place bright red contacts into his eyes. It’s going to be too dark in the haunted house to see them anyways, but he likes to be as authentic as possible for his own self satisfaction.

This year, they’ve signed up to work at a local haunted house for the holiday. It’s one of the bigger events in London, built up in an abandoned shop in the quieter part of the city. They went to it last year with their friend Liam and while Liam nearly pissed his pants, Zayn and Louis had a blast hiding themselves in crevices and behind corners to jump out and scare the already terrified passersby. It was inevitable that they’d end up being paid to do the same thing this year.

For the occasion they’ve gone out and splurged on top class costumes. Louis has chosen to be the devil, his bare chest painted red to match his face and hair, two curved horns glued to each side of his forehead, bright red contacts, fake gashes formed into other various areas of his body. It’s quite the bold look but he knows he looks good. Red’s always been a generous color on him.

Zayn’s gone for a more classic costume- a vampire. His face is lightly dusted with white paint and fake blood stains, hair mussed about his head in a carefree vampiresque way, and he’s got fake fangs capped onto his teeth. 

Neither of them look quite as scary as they do a dark sort of sexy, but it’s Halloween and fuck all if they aren’t going to at least _try_ to hook someone one of these freezing October nights.

+.+.+

"Payno!" Louis bangs on the table Liam's stood behind, sorting out tickets for the night.

The poor, easily-frightened boy jumps back in surprise, dropping his handful of tickets. Louis and Zayn both start cackling while he bends down to pick them up with a frown on his face.

"You're an absolute knob," Liam huffs, his hot breath coming out in a small white cloud. He's glaring at Louis with furrowed brows and a pout in an expression that's supposed to be intimidating. 

He looks like a sad puppy, Louis thinks to himself. Or maybe a sad kid that just got told he can't get a puppy. Liam isn't very threatening.

"And I'm a first class one at that!" Louis exclaims with a sharp grin. "You're a bronze knob while I'm a fucking- what are those fancy ones? A silver knob! Top of the line quality."

He gets a grin for that comment. “Are you not freezing?”

Looking over at Liam, Louis takes in the thick winter coat he’s got on and the beanie pulled down over his ears. He looks very warm, very comfortable and it makes Louis wonder why he’s shirtless and doesn’t feel the least bit chilly.

“To be honest, I think my body’s gone numb,” Louis deadpans, poking at his chest repeatedly. He can barely feel the touches. “Yeah, definitely gone numb.”

There’s a laugh from behind him and he reaches around to slap Zayn, telling him it’s not a laughing matter. What’s the fun in working at a haunted house when your body is too numb to move? 

“Get inside then and stop harassing me,” Liam tells him with a smile now. It seems fake, but Liam _is_ one of those perpetually nice people, so maybe it’s real. Louis doesn’t really care.

“Have fun passing out tickets! And be sure to let any decent looking guys know to look for me in the third room with the fog,” Louis smirks as he bounces on his toes. “Maybe they could help warm me up.”

Two groans are thrown his way so he cackles and walks into the old shop. All of the effects and music inside are turned off at the moment, the whole space illuminated by regular white lighting, muffled murmurs floating through the air. It’s much less scary seeing it like this. If only everyone knew how shitty the real makeup of the place is he doubts they would get half of the business they have now.

Him and Zayn pass by a few of their other friends, call out greetings to each other and compliments about their costumes. Everyone seems awed as usual by their get-ups even after working for three weekends already. They walk through the whistles and cat calls with cocky grins on their faces all the way to their spac.

Their room is supposed to be the Death Room. As it was briefly explained to them before, it’s meant to replicate seeing your life flash before your eyes or some shit. In actuality though, it’s nothing more than flashing red strobe lights and an abundance of fog filling up a large, dark box. Either way, it gets the job done.

They sit against one ‘wall’ - which is actually just a huge piece of plywood painted black - for a while, talking about nonsense things. At some point, they get into a debate about who will find a guy first before Halloween night. It ends in a terrible mess of insults and knocks in the shoulders and, unsurprisingly, a bet on Louis’ part.

“I’ll bet you fifty quid I can pull someone tonight," Louis challenges.

"You're betting that you can pull someone _tonight_ ," Zayn repeats for confirmation. "In a haunted house where you're supposed to be scaring people. Where people are going to be running from you."

"Precisely, Zayn, you're quite smart you know," Louis replies sarcastically.

The other boy rolls his eyes but seems to ponder over the offer for a minute before shrugging and sticking his bony hand out for a shake. "If you're going to be a dumbass I won't stop you. Let's shake on it."

And with that, they're gripping each other's hands and finalizing what's possibly one of the most idiotic bets Louis's ever gotten himself into. He's sure he can manage though. No one can resist a shirtless Louis Tomlinson, although he _is_ a devil caked in blood. Details.

+.+.+

It's two hours into his shift that Louis starts to lose hope in winning. So far a fair few decent looking guys have made their way through their room, but all of them have either been plastered to their girlfriends' sides or shoved past him too quick screaming for him to say anything worthwhile.

Zayn's thrown him a few cocky smirks and winks in between groups of people and Louis just flips him off. Dick. He should have some decency not to pour salt into the wounds that are already forming, especially when he knows good and well that Louis is capable of great revenge.

There's still an hour left till the attraction closes though meaning there's probably still plenty of guys waiting outside for their chance to win Louis fifty quid.

Well, they're waiting outside freezing their arses off to piss themselves in a haunted house, but unknowingly they may be helping Louis too.

He stands back in the dark corner scratching lazily at his chest listening to the haunting music mix with terrified screeches. There's a pause in the flow of people to scare, presumably meaning that there's a group stuck in the section before their room that's full of broken funhouse mirrors and clowns holding various deadly weapons. It gives Louis a chance to take a short break to get himself ready to scare whatever beings walk into the room next.

The break lasts a satisfying thirty seconds, being interrupted by two bodies clumsily stumbling through the clear plastic drapes, laughing and knocking into each other. Already on beat, Zayn moves to step in front of them before Louis can even get a proper look.

Narrowing his eyes to block out the flashing rays, he get’s a more careful view of who these two people are and God be damned. One is a blonde boy with messy hair styled upwards, a grey sweatshirt thrown over his body, a bright smile on his face that stands out amongst the other expressions they normally see. He seems to be right enjoying himself, even with a bloody Zayn looming around him.

The other boy is the reason why God should be damned. As if his friend wasn’t nice enough, this guy takes it up ten notches to the point where the attractiveness-rating machine malfunctions. 

He’s got a long, lean body, with legs that curve in all the right places. His long torso is wrapped in a thick trench coat that looks to be blue, but it’s hard to tell with the lighting. Further up, his hair curls wildly, flipping out on the sides and at the bottom of his neck, falling into his eyes where he’s tilting his head into the blonde’s shoulder to avoid Zayn. Now his _face_ is something straight from a Renaissance canvas, full of plump lips and bright doe eyes, a jawline that could cut through stone. He’s one of the nicest people Louis has ever laid eyes upon and it takes him a moment to realize that he’s supposed to be scaring them at the moment. 

As he moves over to them, another group of teenage girls shoves through the area, high pitched screaming following behind. Louis raises his brows then continues on forward.

When he gets close to the taller, God-like boy, Louis tries not to laugh at how he cowers backwards. Apparently he’s not enjoying the whole experience quite as much as his friend is.

“What’s wrong? Scared of a little devil and vampire?” Louis teases with an amused grin, cornering the guy back towards the entrance.

“N-no, no I’m fine,” he stutters out, not meeting Louis’ eyes. This is all too simple.

“Why’re you backing away from me then? I just want to talk to you,” Louis frowns. He turns around to glance back at Zayn who’s already dropped the scary act and is laughing with the other guy at the scene Louis’ putting on for them. “Your friend isn’t scared, so why should a pretty thing like you be?”

The words sound creepy even in his own ears and for a second Louis wonders if he’s going too far with this. Seconds later, though, the doubt is washed away when Curly Hair blushes enough to be seen in the dim lighting and turns his head to the side, watching yet another stampede of teenagers fly by them.

“Well aren’t you, uh, supposed to be scaring people? Rather than cornering me while your mate laughs with my mate Niall?” The boy asks, sounding more sure of himself than before.

Louis hums at the name the boy lets slip and then shrugs. “As you can see, Zayn and I don’t take the job too seriously. And I quite like watching you try to act brave in front of me, honestly.”

"Don't have to act brave when you aren't intimidating anyways," he says letting a smirk slide onto his face. So he knows how to take Louis' shit and give it back to him; that's always a plus.

"I'm fucking terrifying," Louis defends. "What's your name, curly?'

"Harry," he smiles as if he wasn't about to piss his pants just moments ago. "And I'm assuming yours isn't Satan since your vampire pal isn't named Dracula?"

The lights start flashing now, strobing quickly causing dizziness to set in. It's supposed to add to the suspenseful ambiance of the space but at the moment it's just extremely unnecessary. Why couldn't they wait until after he finished talking with his potential soulmate?

"You've hit the nail on the head!" Louis exclaims brightly. 

Each flash brings a new sight. One, Harry's gleaming eyes. Two, his plush, chewed-on lips. Three, his impeccable facial structure as a whole. It continues in several blinding flashes, occurring in half second intervals each time.

It's incredible and puzzling how his beauty shines through in such small glimpses, just tiny flickers of light illuminating him for moments only long enough to create an image in your mind. 

So Louis’s already gone for him and he’s just learned Harry’s name. 

He looks up into Harry's eyes, the height difference creating a slight difficulty. Slowly, he lifts onto his toes and leans forward, tilting his head so the horns don't hit Harry but his mouth stiff hovers millimeters from the shell of his ear. “I’m Louis.”

+.+.+

“You owe me fifty quid,” Zayn states as soon as they’re hopping in the car.

The rest of the night had gone in a flash and once their shift was over, they went outside to have a chat with Liam. The poor guy looked like he had been stuffed in a freezer for the night with red cheeks and nose and an extra scarf wrapped around his neck. They told him about the bet, laughed a bit about it, laughed even more when Liam let out a fake heartfelt apology about not telling any guys to look for Louis in the house. 

Now, Louis looks over from the passenger’s seat shaking his head. “Nope, not happening.”

Zayn stares at him blankly. “The bet was you pull someone tonight and you didn’t do that. You didn’t even get anyone’s _number_.”

“And how would I have gone about getting someone’s number in the dark with no marker or paper around? Should I have just gone up to a random bloke and said _‘Hey, I know you’re already traumatized at the moment and I’m dressed as a devil, but would you mind putting your number in my phone? Thanks.’_?”

The car starts moving now, quickly through the dark streets. Nights are nice in London for the most part. Louis enjoys the fact that everyone goes out drinking meaning they’re too drunk to drive, inevitably leading to little to no traffic apart from the scattered taxi cabs filled with horny couples. Of course, he barely gets to experience the great driving opportunity anyways because he’s normally a part of the too-drunk-to-drive group himself.

“Point taken,” Zayn nods, dropping one hand off the wheel to rest in his lap. “But still, maybe one of them would’ve been up for it, you know? But you didn’t even try.”

“Well..” Louis draws out with a twisted face. Zayn glances over confused when Louis starts digging around in his pocket then looks more puzzled when he pulls out an unfamiliar phone. “Does it count if I took someone’s phone itself?”

Two caramel eyes bore into him now, attention to the road almost completely gone. “Louis, did you actually fucking _steal_ someone’s _phone_?” Louis shrugs apathetically. “Jesus Christ you’re a full blooded idiot! We could get fired now you know? _You_ could get sent to jail! Why the hell would you-”

“Oh calm down you bloodsucking brute,” Louis throws in, interrupting Zayn’s rant. “Why would it matter if they fire us one week before it closes anyways and I’m not going to go to _jail_. All I have to do is say that I was walking out and stumbled upon this cell phone so I picked it up for safe keeping. No harm done, yeah?”

Zayn seems to turn this over for a minute before letting out a sigh. Louis almost feels bad that he stresses his friends out so much over stupid stunts like this. Then he reminds himself that they do the same to him sometimes so it all evens out in the end. Or it at least comes as close to even as it’ll ever get with Louis’ constant stream of fucking things up for a laugh.

“Who’s phone is it then?” Zayn asks. His tone of voice sounds more interested now, all signs of his recent panic gone.

“You know that blonde and the brunette in the trench coat?” Zayn nods. “It’s his. The tall one’s. Harry’s.”

"Harry, huh," Zayn says slowly like he's getting a taste for the name. "He was pretty hot.”

"Hey, back off bro, I've got dibs on this one," Louis warns, lowering his brows at Zayn.

"You never called dibs you dirty liar."

Louis hums thoughtfully then waves the phone around in front of Zayn's face receiving a quick slap on the wrist. "I think having someone's phone overrules that elementary principle."

And that's when Louis realizes that he fucking stole Harry's phone rather than simply asking for his number or telling him to wait till his shift is over so they could talk then. Three years of university have definitely done wonders to increase his intelligence, but sadly nothing to help his common sense. 

+.+.+

The next morning, Louis is rudely awoken by an unfamiliar sound blaring beside his head. 

He startles from sleep, eyes blinking open quickly trying - and losing - a battle with the bright morning sun. It can't be later than eight if his internal clock is ticking properly.

The noise next to him continues on. After a moment, his hazy mind finally recognizes the noise as a song and then he remembers a phone. Harry's phone.

Sure enough, when he props himself up on an elbow and turns his head to the nightstand, the banana-case clad device is ringing at full volume, a call coming through. There isn't much of an internal battle about answering it when he sees a familiar blonde's picture on the screen.

"'Ello?" He croaks out, clearing his throat quickly.

"Um, hi?" The voice on the other side is thick and slow, like the person has just woken up themself. That being said, the voice is also not what Louis vaguely remembers Niall's to sound like.

"Oh, hi Harry," Louis chirps quietly with a lopsided smile that no one can see. "It's Louis. From the haunted house."

There's a short pause before the line comes back to life. "You have my phone."

"That I do, curly, and I'd like to say I appreciate the wake up call. Always nice to have Gwen Stefani state that she's not a 'hollaback girl' first thing in the morning." Louis is teasing, he knows, and it's not as odd as it should probably be. It feels natural, messing with Harry as he speaks to him through the boy's phone as Harry listens intently through someone else's. A true love story of the modern ages.

"I- Niall set that as my ringtone for him a while back, I swear," Harry replies and Louis can practically feel his blush. "Not that I was anticipating on someone else having my phone anyways but, I mean no, I'm not really into her."

"Thanks for clarifying," Louis states with a light chuckle. Then he yawns but continues talking through it anyways. "So can I go back 'oo seep now?"

He lays back in the bed. His head sinks so nicely back into the fluffy pillow and it's all so warm and comfortable he almost wants to just hang up on Harry right now so he can fall back into a beautiful slumber. 

"Wait!" Harry bursts suddenly. "Uh, so when can I get it back? The phone?"

"I think I'd rather keep it and sell it online. Might help pay some of the rent," Louis replies lazily, rubbing his feet together under the covers to keep himself awake.

He half expects Harry to take him seriously, threaten to call the cops or something. But instead he's gifted with the pleasant sound of a deep chuckle. "Would the banana case be included because I think that would bump it up an extra fifty bucks or so."

"Actually I’ll keep that bit for meself, although my mates might laugh at me for it,” Louis says in a light tone. Then he gives himself a quick mental pep talk for what he’s about to initiate. “But in all seriousness, we could just meet up today and I could return the phone? If you’d want to?”

“Yeah,” Harry says too quickly. “I mean, sure. Yeah that’d- erm, it'd be cool. I was about to go buy some pumpkins so could we maybe meet there?”

Pumpkins aren’t too threatening. Louis figures he can handle walking through a pumpkin patch with Harry. It wouldn’t kill him or press any of his sexual triggers unless Harry is waiting for him naked on a hay bale. Shit, he needs to not think about that and actually reply to the question.

“That sounds sick, man, just text me the adress,” Louis says without thinking. Luckily he catches himself before Harry speaks up about the little dilemma. “Ok, well I forgot this is your phone so I guess just text yourself the address. Fuck, that sounds so dumb, and I’ll hang up before I sound even dumber.”

Harry laughs on the other end, a joyful sound that makes the corners of Louis’ mouth twitch. “Bye then, Louis.”

“Goodbye, banana boy,” Louis announces with a final click of the ‘end call’ button.

Now he’s actually got to get out of bed and get dressed and _drive_ somewhere. It’s not fair- he didn’t get a chance to think this through. But obviously he’s not going to let Harry down now, especially since he has something of the boy’s and honestly, he doesn’t think he’d be able to handle Harry’s pout. 

So he builds up all of the energy he has and rolls himself over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the ground firmly. His limbs stretch satisfyingly, a loud yawn escaping his mouth as he goes to pick out an outfit.

A flannel would probably be something to wear to pick out pumpkins, but he doesn’t own one of those. Sweaters are fall-y too though, so he throws one of those on. Skinny jeans and torn up Vans complete the look, hair thoughtfully tossed about on his head.

Harry doesn’t have a code on his phone so Louis decides to use up his 4G by using Google Maps to help him find the place Harry texted. If he already stole the phone, what more harm could charging up the bill do too, right?

By the time he gets there, Zayn has texted him wondering where he went (a message that he promptly ignores) and Harry is sitting on the hood of his car, pulling at a loose thread on his jeans. They’re parked in a patch of grass that the patch is set on, mostly average, worn out cars sitting around. Of course Harry is sitting on a shiny, luxurious Range Rover.

“Something tells me that a lost phone wouldn’t have dented your pocket much,” Louis says as way of greeting causing the other boy to snap his head up. 

He looks confused for a second, pushing his hair back and squinting his bright green eyes against the tinted orange mid-morning glow, but then it all seems to dawn upon him and he’s grinning. “I’m not struggling with the pocket change, yeah.”

He hops down and rolls his shoulders back slowly, a move that doesn’t have Louis’ eyes locked on his collarbones that are on display above the collar of his thin white shirt. A black pea coat is covering his arms and even with it’s simplicity it’s still so obvious that it’s probably worth more than Louis’ own car.

“You look nice without the blood and horns,” Harry continues with a smile. He’s so vibrant is the thing, the blinding happiness radiating from his expression completely going against the mysteriousness of a black car and his penchant for winter coats. “Your eyes are a really pretty blue.”

The comment hits Louis straight in the gut. Harry didn’t compliment his outfit or hair, no, he just dove straight in for the most minimal thing. If the fact that he actually _noticed_ the difference in Louis’ eyes isn’t enough, he had to go and make a remark about their beauty to top it off.

“Thanks,” Louis says slowly, trying to save his integrity by biting back a smile. “You look the exact same.”

He gets the honor of witnessing Harry’s loud cackle now, staring with amusement in his own eyes as Harry slackly slaps a hand over his mouth. It’s a joyous sound that in time Louis hopes he’ll be able to come to appreciate.

“You’re a flatterer aren’t you,” Harry grins at him.

“I am, yes, now are we going to continue to list off attractive things about each other or are we going to do the Great Phone Return and pick out some pumpkins?” Louis breaks in, reaching down to pull the banana phone from his pocket.

“Getting my phone back would be nice,” Harry reasons. He takes the phone from Louis’ hand and smiles down at it like he hasn’t seen it in years. “Where’d you find it anyways?”

This is the point where Louis decides what the story is. He could say what he told Zayn about finding it on the way out, but he feels like it wouldn’t be right to treat Harry as he would a cop who’s about to arrest him.

“I stole it?” Louis quietly admits with a sheepish smile. “I mean, I wasn’t going to do anything with it I just didn’t know how we’d get to talk again and I’m a _fucking idiot_ so I decided to take it from your pocket. It was pretty easy too, you should watch out for that. Other creepy guys might take it for not so pleasant activities.”

The other boy is staring at him with creased brows, probably trying to figure out what the proper reaction should be. The way ever present glee in his eyes though tells Louis that he’s pretty much off the hook.

“Let me get this straight,” Harry starts slowly. “In the two minutes that I was with you in the haunted house, you managed to find me intriguing enough to reach into my coat pocket and steal my cellphone instead of just asking for my number.”

“Basically,” Louis confirms with a shy grin. 

“Well lucky for you I think you’re cute so I won’t throw you in a rusty old jail cell,” Harry chuckles, casually throwing in the complement with such ease that Louis could’ve missed it if he weren’t hanging off of every word.

“Good, and for the record, you’re pretty adorable yourself,” Louis smiles, playfully kicking a foot out to tap Harry’s shin. 

The taller of the two responds by shoving the phone down into a pocket of his coat and flipping his hair. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks, a rosy color that barely stand out over his natural flush. “How about we go pick some pumpkins out now?”

+.+.+

Their time spent in the pumpkin patch is extravagant and hilarious. It consisted of each of them sending fond smiles when they thought the other wasn’t looking, holding up short or abnormally tall pumpkins that supposedly looked like one another, and eating pumpkin pie while sitting on the hood of Harry’s car.

Harry tried to pay for it all but Louis insisted he at least chip in something, shoving Harry’s hand away when he tried to hand over a full twenty. Louis is an independent guy, he doesn’t need someone else paying for him on dates. And, well. It originally wasn’t supposed to be a date, but looking back over it all he decides there’s no point in denying the blatant obvious.

They’ve known each other for about 18 hours, maybe less, but Louis is intrigued. The stories Harry shared between bites of the sweet pie were meaningless yet seemed so interesting from the way Harry’s eyes danced as he told them. 

Louis has learned that Harry is an upcoming music artist, just been signed a few months back and having performed a little more than a handful of shows. His best friend’s name is Niall - the same one who had a good laugh with Zayn the previous night -, he writes the best songs when he listens to classical music, he wears loose fitting shirts a lot because he thinks his torso is _“quite wonky looking.”_ One of his stranger habits is drinking coffee at midnight too, only after he wakes up from a nightmare, which Louis finds particularly captivating.

It’s all meaningless facts that he shared with Louis in small tales of past events, probably not even realizing what he was admitting. Louis listened intently though, returning the favor with unimportant tidbits about himself also. Harry seemed just as interested in what Louis had to say as Louis was in him, so it worked well. It’s always nice to be able to talk to someone and know in your gut that they genuinely care about the thoughts you’re spilling out to them.

They’re at Louis’ flat now, sitting across from each other on the stone ground of his small balcony. There’s a large bowl and various drawing and carving utensils scattered around them, a set of speakers sitting on the small glass table blasting Harry’s songs. Their hands are full of pumpkin guts, strands of their hair too, and their conversation is casually flowing as Harry ducks his head, pretending the faint tint to his cheeks is just from the cold, not because of what they’re listening to.

“You’re a great singer you know,” Louis notes, looking at him with a hand shoved deep down in his pumpkin. “The lyrics are all wonderful too. You can actually tell that you’re writing from your heart, not just being handed pre-written songs by some ‘experienced’ writers high up in the industry. It’s refreshing.”

Harry’s mouth slowly quirks up to form a small crater in the former clear surface of his cheek. He looks up at Louis through the bits of hair falling over his eyes, meeting Louis’ own blues with his forest green. 

“You’re obligated to say that,” Harry says quietly. His voice is small and insecure like he genuinely doesn’t believe the compliments Louis is giving him.

“No I’m not,” Louis argues sharply. “I could easily say that your songs are absolute shite and your voice sounds as autotuned as my YouTube covers from when I was sixteen. But I’m not going to say that because it’s not _true_.”

“You recorded covers and put them online?” Harry questions. He pulls out a large clump of pumpkin seeds and throws them into the bowl, pulling Louis’ attention to the _size_ of his hand. It could easily feature in some vivid sexual daydreams.

“Don’t change the subject, Styles,” Louis quips, pointing a scolding finger at him. “I’m trying to appreciate your impeccable talents and you are going to soak in every single word.”

A cackle sounds from a foot away that makes Louis’ heart stutter. It’s too soon for those types of emotions. Honestly, what part of his mind is controlling his responses to Harry’s simple actions? What molecule's bright idea was it to make his heart flutter when Harry so much as pinches his lips between his fingers?

“Thanks then. Really. It means a lot to hear someone say that and to know that you mean it without having some alternative motive behind it like just wanting my autograph to sell.” Harry flashes him a sad smile but before Louis can reach out and pull his cheeks back up himself, Harry is slowly shaking his head and grabbing a towel to wipe his hand off on. “You know, it’s funny how you’re such a big softie.”

The subject change is brushed off this time. Louis gasps in mock offense, reaching forward to snatch the towel from Harry’s slackened grip and wiping his own hands off purposefully. “I am _not_ a softie.”

“Yeah, well, you aren’t very tough either,” Harry sing songs. “You act scary with the red eyes but as soon as you take the contacts out you’re.. I don’t know. You’re just nice.”

“Uh, thanks. You’re nice too,” Louis emits quietly. 

The air between them is getting thinner, or maybe thicker. He can’t tell the difference. There’s an abundance of positive charged energy floating around, filling Louis’ lungs with something lighter than oxygen that eventually travels through to his heart, making it beat with a metaphorical skip to it’s step. 

The conversation dies off then as they continue with their tasks. Harry’s songs fade into Louis’ regular library after some time. It’s disappointing because Louis thinks he could listen to Harry’s raspy, heartfelt singing for hours on end, but he figures he can put that off till later when he’s alone in his room at two am, full of pent up emotions and confusion over his building infatuation with Harry.

After about an hour of singing along to various songs and teasing each other’s carving skills, they finally finish their designs. Louis’ is a classic, a terrifying face with full arched eyebrows, a sinister smile, sharp eyes. Harry’s gone for a more unique route, a smiling face with a shaky bow carved above the eye where supposedly it’s hair would be. 

They mutually decide to put them on display against the railing of the balcony for all of the passer bys on the deserted road Louis lives on to see. Once that’s finished, Harry reluctantly admits that he has a meeting with his label to attend in just an hour, leaving Louis trying to hide a disappointed frown. 

“Today was really fun considering I was just supposed to meet you and get my phone back,” Harry tells him earnestly as they stand at the front door, his large hand already on the knob.

“I had a great time too,” Louis returns with just as much sincerity. “Wish you didn’t have to go so soon. Fucking pop stars and their hectic schedules.”

Harry chuckles (it’s a borderline giggle but Louis gives him the benefit of the doubt) and pushes his spare fingers through his unruly hair. “My schedule is nothing compared to _actual_ pop stars. I’m just an underground act on the fringe of becoming big, not actually there yet.”

“Same difference,” Louis waves off.

“Different difference,” Harry grins making Louis scrunch his face up at the ridiculous attempt at humor. Harry knocks into his shoulder playfully instead of shoving Louis like he was originally expecting. He looks straight into Louis’ eyes then reaches out to push a stray piece of his fringe back into place with gentle fingertips. “I think I’m going to write a song about you.”

Louis snorts. “Don’t bluff, I’m nothing interesting enough to write about.”

“You’re plenty interesting,” Harry assures him with a serious expression much like the one Louis was giving him earlier when the situation was reversed. “I already have lines floating through my mind about blue eyes, sweet spices in the air, bitter wind biting at the ends of noses and small hands committing crimes, stealing things in an innocent manner. Don’t doubt me, _Tomlinson._ ”

And with that Louis is stunned into a moment of silence. There are few things that can wipe every thought from Louis’ mind, leave him thoroughly speechless. Harry’s got him there though. He’s got Louis held between his thumb and pointer finger, suspending him in the air with no way to touch back down to Earth to find a response. 

So instead of using words, he uses his mouth for another reason. He tilts up onto his toes slightly, just enough for him to be at an even level with Harry before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the boy’s cheek. The skin is smooth beneath his chapped lips and all he can think about is how Harry’s lips might actually feel against his own. 

He lets himself linger for just a few seconds before pulling away. When he meets Harry’s gaze, the green eyes he’s quickly becoming familiar with are almost glazed over in a way, wide in shock, coinciding with the lopsided slope of his pink lips. Louis bites down on his own lip to hold back the joy threatening to show itself in the form of a ridiculously fond expression.

“You’ll make a number one hit, Lou,” Harry says softly, his tone dangerously sweet, tingling all of Louis’ nerve ends.

Without another word, he’s throwing one last smile Louis’ way and stepping out the door, shoving his hand into the pocket of his pea coat and dragging his feet down the grimy material of their hallway’s carpet. All Louis can do is stare in wonder as Harry saunters to the end of the expanse and pushes through the exit leading to the staircase. 

After a minute of waiting for something else to happen, Louis sinks back into the flat, closing the door as quietly as possible to not disturb his already hazy thoughts. It takes him a minute or two to notice the unconscious delighted upturn of his lips. When he does though, he pulls them into his mouth and licks over them, moving to the balcony again.

He pulls a cigarette from the box he and Zayn keep inside of the fake potted plant and grabs for the lighter already sitting in his pocket. It’s not good for him, he knows that already, but it only seems like a fitting thing to do when he doesn’t have words to say or anyone to say them to anyways. 

The toxic substance fills his lungs, pale smoke rising into the air as he gently blows out, clearing most of the hysteria enough for clear processing.

He’d make a number one hit, Harry’d told him. Someone he’s known for one day believes he’s something good enough to be transformed into lines of a piece of musical art. And it’s _Harry_ of all people who thinks that- this guy who is exuberant, beautiful, endearingly humorous, an all around enigma that Louis would take his precious time learning to figure out.

It’s all a lot to take in at once. All of this happening during his favorite time of the year too, spawned from one foolish criminal move in a dingy haunted house. It’s like fate or maybe some force even stronger.

All he knows for sure is that if Harry has it set to form him into intricately drawn together words to be sung by himself, he can try his hardest to make the best of it all while it lasts. And hopefully it continues for many days to come even after their pumpkins rot away and the leaves falling to the ground slowly fade into layers of pale snow, covering the last bit of fall's existence. 

He finally rests his head in his cold palm with a fleeting thought about how glad he is that this year he's found someone to be more than just an odd Halloween hook up. Thankful, even. 

Yeah, definitely thankful.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please leave kudos and comments, i love all of that. :)
> 
> if you want to talk to me i'm @daddyhair on twitter and louwie on tumblr


End file.
